


Showing no mercy, I'd do it again

by tropico



Category: Lost
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 06:21:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4049476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tropico/pseuds/tropico
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She tells herself she deserves the loneliness as Sawyer bites the space between her shoulder and neck, leaving almost-bloody teeth marks. Post S6.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Showing no mercy, I'd do it again

Over the past year she has slowly come to understand exactly what Sawyer meant on those docks. Some people are meant to be alone. Some people aren't meant to be happy. She is one of them, too. She's chased it her whole life - kissed Tom for it, killed Wayne for it, fucked Sawyer and Jack for it. She never really found it though. At least never without the fear, the anxiety of it being fleeting and conditional and fragile and now she understands why. She was never supposed to be happy. 

He wasn't either. He has her pinned up against an old stone wall behind a bar they've been drinking in. Over time he has deflated slightly. The puffed up cockiness of the island days is gone, leaving a more wiry, bitter kind of reserved weariness. He disappeared for a while to make it up with Cassidy and now he sees Clementine once every few months. Kate has a feeling it won't last. He likes the kid but he's no dad, he never wanted to be. _“Not even with Juliet.”_ he had told her one night while she was on her knees in front of him. She is desperate for his touch, gets drunk on the solidness of his body. He leaves her with her arms outreached. That's how it goes these days - a strange, lonely kind of role reversal. 

She tells herself she deserves the loneliness as Sawyer bites the space between her shoulder and neck, leaving almost-bloody teeth marks. He won't make eye contact now, even as he pushes two fingers into her, rougher than he needs to be. She yelps a little and he silences her with a hot, firm kiss, swallows her cry in his mouth. She knows he wants it to hurt her and she let's him. Kate's always been good at that. 

“Suck my dick.” He grunts, eyes fixed firmly down. It's not quite a command, but it's not much of an offer either. She drops to her knees and pulls him out of his pants, making him moan quietly as her cold hands and warm mouth begin a clumsy rhythm. She looks up at him, her eyes searching for his, but they're closed tightly. She thinks he looks sad. 

When he's done, she wipes her mouth and they go back into the bar to drink cheap, dark liquor by the tumbler-full. 

-

The house she'd bought with the Oceanic money had been too big and too lonely for her to ever go back again. She'd sold it for less than she'd bought it for and found a two bedroom apartment on the outskirts of the city, twenty minutes away from the house she'd bought Claire and Aaron. They moved back to Australia and haven't picked up the phone in two months. Kate tries not to think about it but every few weeks she puts another one of Aaron's toys into a cardboard box in the closet. She figures the slower she does it, the less it will hurt. Maybe some day she'll take the Blues Clues lamp shade in Sawyer's room down. 

Back from drinking, they stumble through the apartment door and fuck on the floor. Some days, like tonight, he is cold and far away from her. She feels like she has to drag him back to the real world and she tries to with overly aggressive sexuality. Wants him to feel something so intense and alive that he snaps back into reality so she isn't so alone in it. 

Because some days he is James again. Some days when he forgets their shared past, he drapes a warm, safe arm around her shoulders and plants soft kisses against the side of her face in the morning. He brings flowers to the house, even if he never actually gives them to her. They talk and flirt and laugh sometimes. They make love, real love that makes her want to cry. 

She's tried so hard tonight and is rewarded with the realisation that his mood has changed. This time, he is gentle. He lays her on the floor softly and kisses her all over, settling between her thighs and licking until she's so close to coming undone that sweat beads on her skin. With tenderness and care he places himself carefully between her legs and lets her guide him in, excruciatingly slowly. Their eyes meet for the first time in a couple of days and he clutches her so close that for a second, the constant piercing pain that lives in the infected, ugly parts of her dark heart evaporates and she feels for one brief, blissful moment – happy. And she doesn't want to get it wrong, but she thinks he feels it too. 

Maybe this is the right kind of happy for two people like them.


End file.
